The Dutchman's Revenge
by j3nnee
Summary: Peter calls Neal on his day off. Spoilers from Pilot and season 1. Whumpage will occur.
1. Chapter 1

**The Dutchman's Revenge**

**Spoilers for season 1.  
References to Pilot episode.****  
==================**

Neal had been sleeping up until the annoying buzzing sound that woke him. It wasn't the alarm on the clock radio but his cell. He rolled over and pulled the item towards him, glancing down at the number and the time on the screen. It was Peter and it was early. He clicked a button and pushed the cell to his ear as he continued to lay in bed.

"It's my day off. What's up?" Neal sounded testy but really he was glad to hear from Peter. He liked having days off but lately he'd missed hanging out with the agent and his wife. They'd been busy with various other projects which left Neal to fend for himself when it came to having plans for dinner or going out. He could hear Peter speaking quietly on the other end of the phone.

"Sorry, I had a case file come up you might be able to... help me with." Peter's words made Neal perked up a bit, sitting up in bed as he leaned back against the backboard.

"Sure. Where do you want me to meet you?" Neal listened as Peter gave him the address of a subway station, which was odd in itself but he took the address down and told him he'd be there ASAP. He pulled himself out of bed, replacing his cell on the nightstand. Neal was still pretty sleepy having expected to sleep in for once but it was good to visit with Peter especially if it meant a case he could run free on.

He showered and shaved in record time, threw on one of many nice suits so kindly provided by June and tossed on the fedora he'd learned to love. He took a quick glance at himself in the full-length mirror before grabbing up his phone, coat and wallet and making his way out and down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs he pulled on his coat and buttoned up, wrapping a dark cashmere scarf around his neck. It was still chilly in NYC despite it being April. Neal made his way outside and caught a cab to the subway station.

Neal was deep in thought as he tried to wake himself up along the way. It was strange that Peter would call him on a day off for a case but it stranger that he would ask him to meet at a subway station. Maybe the Taurus was broken or El had it, he wondered about this as he sat in the back of the taxi staring out the window at the passing scenery. Finally the cab stopped, Neal paid and stepped out into the chilly morning air. He walked the half a block to the station and down the stairs. The station was unusually "quiet" for a weekday morning which made Neal wonder again why Peter asked to meet him here.

He took the last few steps, two at a time hearing the sound of a train pass by and disappear into the distance. Neal looked around the empty terminal and started walking slowly, his footsteps echoing in the quiet of the tunnel. Peter was no where to be seen but he knew this was the place and time. Neal checked his watch.

"Neal..." Peter's voice rang out in the silence of the tunnel, echoing slightly. There was an odd tinge to it that made the young man hesitate as he turned to face his partner and friend.

"Peter? Everything ok?" He was beginning to think something was up, Peter's demeanor different than usual. The agent shrugged weakly, face ragged looking and tired. Neal started to walk towards him when Peter held up a hand making him stop. That's when another figure popped out behind a pillar near his friend. Neal took a moment to recognize the figure: round face, thin brown hair, roman nose... Curtis Hagen, _The Dutchman_. He saw the man grin at him menacingly as recognition hit.

"Hello, Mister Caffrey. Glad you could make it to this little rendezvous. Your "_friend_" here was kind enough to lead me straight to you." Curtis Hagen's tone was dark and unforgiving and very European. Neal noticed the man held a gun to Peter unseen until now. Neal gulped, noticing the fear in his friend's eyes that he had only guessed at. He had to act cool, talk the man down and make sure Peter was safe.

"Curtis Hagen. How's the art forgery business going?" Neal tried to appear unperturbed by the situation but it was hard with Peter being held at gun point. Curtis chuckled lightly, a not so friendly smile on his face.

"Not so good since I was arrested but now I'm out and well... I thought you might be able to pay back the debt you owe me. I lost quite a bit of "_face_" with your little "_visit_." If you choose to help a fellow art forger out, I might not kill your "_friend_" here." Hagen pulled a hand around Peter's chest, pinning his arms and held the gun to the agent's chin. Neal nodded slowly, hands up watching the scene play out as he tried to figure how to get Peter to safety. Hagen wasn't playing games. He continued to act as cool as he could, a stiff smile on his lips.

"Hagen, what do you want?" Neal kept his tone low and obviously cautious. He didn't want to cause anything to happen to Peter and Hagen seemed more than aware of that. The man grinned evilly.

"For one, I'd like to have the Spanish Victory Bond again. I know you can get it for me." Hagen continued to hold the gun under Peter's chin dangerously. Neal blinked at the man's words, wondering what the man was thinking. He'd never be able to sell the piece. He saw Hagen observing him and nodded reluctantly.

"Ok. Anything else?" Hagen just smiled at Neal's obvious helplessness.

"That would be it for now." Hagen waved him away with the gun as if he were an errant child late for school.

"Get along. You have three hours to get this done or I shoot your "_friend_" and I don't think his wife would take kindly to that." Hagen clucked his tongue condescendingly making Neal want to strangle the man but he had to be cool. He nodded tersely in reply, giving Peter a "_hold on_" look as he turned to exit the terminal.

**()()()**

Peter Burke was tired. He had just spent the past 24 hours or so on a stakeout with little sleep. Neal was off this case so he had sat it out with Jones in the municipal truck. They were both wired for when they needed to leave the vehicle and made their way closer to get images or else just take a break. The agency had gotten into the habit of having everyone wired during most cases for safety's sake.

"Jones, I'm heading home. You ok?" He heard a slight crackle of movement then a reply.

"_Yeah boss. Get some sleep. I'll call you if anything comes up._" Jones sounded pretty alert but he had only been on the scene a couple of hours. Peter nodded, making his way to his car down the block. He was in the middle of a yawn, hand over his mouth, eyes partially closed when someone bumped him coming from in front. Peter took a step back, saying: _Excuse me_ but the man didn't move and that's when he heard the cocking of a pistol. Something was jabbed into his stomach and the man looked up into the agent's eyes. Peter blinked recognizing the man.

"Hello, _Friend_." Peter swallowed hard at the man's words, the unmistakable accent of Curtis Hagen. He had put this man away with Neal's help within a few weeks of bringing the young con out of prison. Hagen looked pissed but smiled.

"I'll just relieve you of this." Hagen reached inside Peter's jacket and pulled his piece out, dropping it into his pocket. He moved behind Peter and pushed the gun into his back.

"Curtis Hagen, when did you get out?" Peter felt the gun pressed into his back and his voice went high at the end, a little laugh coming from Hagen. Peter moved forward slowly towards his car unsure of what was going to happen.

"Don't worry, _Friend_. I'm not going to shoot you... yet." Peter gulped, pulling out his keys and opening up the vehicle. Hagen stopped the agent from going in, putting a hand on his shoulder as he pushed the gun against the back of Peter's neck. The agent froze waiting for something to happen. It did. Peter felt a crack on the back of his neck at the base of his skull, collapsing against the vehicle as he passed out.

**()()()**

Jones sat in the municipal truck listening to footsteps walking on the pavement. He laughed to himself. Peter must really be exhausted if he forgot to take his receiver out of his ear. The agent was about to say something when he heard Peter speak followed by the sound of what could only be described as the "_cocking_" of a pistol. Jones perked up wanting to respond but he remained quiet, listening to everything in hopes he might figure out a way to help.

"_Hello, Friend._" Silence followed the voice, a European accent maybe British. The voice spoke again.

"_I'll just relieve you of this._" Jones listened as there was movement.

"C_urtis Hagen, when did you get out?_" Peter spoke but his voice held something that sounded like fear. Jones continued to listen till he heard what sounded like a blunt object hitting something solid and a groan from his boss. Jones immediately picked up his cell and began calling Hughes, while still keeping tabs on the situation. Apparently Hagen was driving Peter's car and talking on his own cell to someone. The man didn't know Peter was wired which was a good thing.

"This better be good... Jones?" Hughes sounded sleepy. Jones let the director know what was up and heard a bellow on the other side.

"Get someone on your stakeout and take over this operation, you heard me Jones?" Hughes sounded like he was walking into another room, the sound of a door closing nearby. He continued to bellow out commands before they ended the call. Jones sighed, calling up other people as ordered and waking up people as necessary.

**()()()**

Peter woke up a few hours later, his head throbbing. He tried to move but found himself handcuffed to a pipe in a utility room of some kind. He could smell exhaust and hear the sound of trains. It made his head ache more, the vibration shaking the whole structure. He groaned, something stuffed in his mouth, tape pulled over his lips tightly. He tried to move but hung from the piping, steam burning at his wrists, his feet barely touching the floor. He heard a sound from behind him, trying to turn and saw Hagen standing there in a doorway.

"Ah, you're awake. Good. I need you to make a phone call to your partner." Hagen walked over, gun in hand. Peter blinked at the man, seeing his cell in the other hand. Hagen pulled the tape and rag from Peter's mouth and held the cell to his ear. The agent coughed listening as the number rang then finally picked up.

"_It's my day off. What's up?_" Neal sounded testy. Peter glanced over at Hagen and the gun speaking quietly.

"Sorry, I had a case file come up you might be able to... help me with." Peter's voice was hesitant from having been gagged and knocked out. Neal didn't seem to notice.

"_Sure. Where do you want me to meet you?_" Neal seemed excited unaware of the trap he was walking into. Peter gave him the directions to the subway station, ending the call quickly. Hagen hung up the cell and smiled smugly.

"Good work, _friend_. You'll live a while longer today." Peter glared at the man despite feeling exhausted and dizzy. Hagen returned the gag to the agent's mouth and unlocked one cuff, Peter collapsing to the floor. He felt his arms pulled back and recuffed as Hagen pulled him up to his feet.

"Come along. Your partner is waiting." Hagen yanked the federal agent by the cuffs out of the small utility room, Peter just barely keeping up.


	2. Chapter 2

**(Chapter 2)**

Peter stood, vision blurring in and out of focus by a large pillar in the subway tunnel. Hagen had lead him back up the tunnel to a nearby and apparently empty terminal. They had climbed back up to the main floor off the track and Hagen stayed hidden behind the pillar with Peter awaiting Neal Caffrey. The agent could still feel the throbbing of his head where the man had hit him. He felt nauseated and wanted to throw up but he was forced to stay upright and ready for his friend.

Peter wavered slightly where he stood until he felt a slight push with the gun and a quiet hiss. Hagen was waving the gun at him so Peter perked up long enough to realize there were footsteps coming closer as a train passed without stopping. He saw a blurry figure approaching and just by the profile he knew it had to be Neal. Hagen hissed at him again so he called out as he noticed the figure looking down at their watch.

"Neal..." He could hear his voice echo slightly off the cement walls of the subway tunnel. He saw Neal perk up and look his way. The young man looked surprised he thought but he was only able to read the young man's body language, his eyes still not focused enough to catch anything more subtle.

"Peter? Everything ok?" Neal's voice sounded worried. Maybe the young man was picking up on something. He shrugged weakly, feeling faint but knowing he had to continue the charade. He watched Neal start to walk towards him but Hagen was hissing at him just out of earshot, so Peter held up a hand. The con stopped abruptly, Peter's eyes focusing enough to see a confused look on his friend's face. It became more puzzled once Peter heard Hagen walk out behind him, gun pressed into his back. Neal seemed to be putting two and two together and figured out what was going on.

"Hello, Mister Caffrey. Glad you could make it to this little rendezvous. Your "_friend_" here was kind enough to lead me straight to you." Hagen's tone was dark and unforgiving, more so maybe because of his accent. Peter was vaguely aware that Neal looked nervous though the young man tried hard to hide it behind a veneer of suavity.

"Curtis Hagen. How's the art forgery business going?" Neal tried to appear unperturbed by the situation but it had to be hard Peter thought under the circumstances. He felt the gun pressed into the back of his neck as Hagen chuckled lightly.

"Not so good since I was arrested but now I'm out and well... I thought you might be able to pay back the debt you owe me. I lost quite a bit of "_face_" with your little "_visit_." If you choose to help a fellow art forger out, I might not kill your "_friend_" here." Peter felt Hagen wrap an arm around him, pinning his arms to his sides and holding the cold metal of the pistol under his chin. Peter swallowed hard, seeing Neal nod slowly, hands up as a stiff smile formed on his lips.

"Hagen, what do you want?" He noticed that Neal kept his tone low and cautious. His partner was obviously not taking any chances on antagonizing Hagen.

"For one, I'd like to have the Spanish Victory Bond again. I know you can get it for me." Hagen continued to hold the gun under Peter's chin dangerously. Peter barely breathed, afraid to move. He watched Neal blink at the man's words, then after a moment he nodded reluctantly.

"Ok. Anything else?" Neal was afraid. Peter could sense the young man's dread at the situation although he hid it well.

"That would be it for now." Peter heard Hagen's voice answer from behind, the gun waved in front of his face at Neal dismissively. The motion was making him ill under the circumstances, his nausea returning.

"Get along. You have three hours to get this done or I shoot your "_friend_" and I don't think his wife would take kindly to that." Hagen clucked his tongue condescendingly, Peter noticing Neal stiffen though he made no motion or sound. Finally, Neal nodded tersely to Hagen, giving Peter a "_hold on_" look as he turned to exit the terminal. The agent felt fear wash over him along with a sudden wave of nausea. He wanted to go with Neal but he was still held at gun point by Hagen. Neal's footsteps echoed off into silence leaving the Fed with his captor. Hagen spun the man around, gun held up to his face.

"It's a good thing Caffrey likes you. Cons like him don't always care about their partners." Peter felt his eyes crossing as the gun waved before his face. He turned, falling to his knees at the edge of the waiting area and started to throw up over the side onto the tracks. Peter continued to throw up for several minutes before nothing but clear liquid came out and he collapsed to the ground in a heap. He felt Hagen nudge at him with a foot and looked up through bleary eyes.

"Feeling queasy are we? No worries." Peter saw Hagen pull something out of his pocket, crouch beside him and drape it over his face. He smelled something sweet, pushing weakly at the ground to roll away but he had no more strength. The chloroform filled his nostrils and in seconds he felt the world spinning dizzily away from him into the darkness.

**()()()**

Neal felt sick as he left the terminal, each step feeling like one more chance his friend could end up dead but he had to leave. He had exactly three hours from now to go to the National Archives and steal the Victory Bond to save Peter's life. Neal wasn't sure how much he could believe Hagen. The man was obviously deranged but he had to do what he said for Peter's sake. He sighed, climbing that last step to daylight when someone grabbed his arm and pulled him aside with a jerk. Neal turned about to say something when he saw who it was.

"Jones? What's..." Neal sounded confused. The agent pushed a finger to his lips and pulled him out of range of the stairs. That's when Neal saw them. There were several agents all masquerading as pedestrians, morning commuters and various other every day people. He hadn't noticed any of them when he had walked in but now...

"Caffrey, did you see Burke?" Jones whispered to him, his face worried. Neal was still stunned by the agent's presence but he nodded.

"He's down there but he's being held captive by Curtis Hagen. I think you remember the _Dutchman_ Peter was chasing when I was let out of jail?" Neal started to relax a bit now that he didn't have to do this alone but he was still on a time table. Jones nodded to the consultant, motioning for a few of the agents to come closer.

"It looks like we're just dealing with the one guy. We can probably take him. Just wish the ear piece had stayed. Only reason why that subway tunnel was empty this time of day was we got the location early." Jones had his gun ready as did the other agents but Neal held up his hands.

"No, you can't just go in there like this! Hagen has a demand and I have three hours to get him something or Peter's going to be hurt. I don't want to take the chance Hagen's serious." Neal made as if he was going to walk off but Jones blocked him.

"Neal, what is it that Hagen wants. We'll get it for you. Hughes will approve it I'm sure." Jones seemed more than serious but Neal wasn't sure how to respond. Finally he nodded.

"He wants the Spanish Victory Bond. I don't know why but that's what he requested and I have less than three hours now to get it. I need to go!" Neal was getting antsy but Jones continued to hold him back, pulling out his cell and calling someone.

"It's Jones. Caffrey's here and he saw Burke. Curtis Hagen is the one who's holding our man." Jones nodded into the phone a few times then spoke again.

"Yes sir. He was asking for Caffrey to steal back the Spanish Victory Bond and bring it to him in exchange for Agent Burke. Yes sir... Yes sir... Ok." Jones hung up the phone as Neal watched the agent smile at him.

"You're getting your ransom, Caffrey. Should be here shortly." Jones continued to smile, motioning for agents to move back to their posts and pulling Neal off to the side. Neal blinked unsure of what to say.

"So Hughes approved it, just like that? I... I can't think what to say." Neal sat down on a nearby bench and tried to relax despite everything. Hughes had approved the ransom so that was good news. He wondered if Hagen would believe him having the real bond in so little time. He hadn't been told _NOT_ to tell anyone about the incident so technically the FBI knowing wasn't bad. He mulled it over when something else occurred to him.

"How long have you known what was going on?" He looked up at Jones who finally sat down beside him after barking orders to people over their walkie-talkies.

"It was purely accidental. We had a stakeout, Peter left and forgot to take his ear piece off. I could hear him walking and was going to tell him to remove it when Hagen nabbed him. Up till a few hours ago, we had full audio but then something happened so the piece was either found by Hagen or it fell out. We're not sure but we've been blind for a little bit. We knew he was going to contact you though and Hughes thought it would be best if you didn't know ahead of time so it was more _natural_ when you showed up." He shrugged helplessly, Neal looking a bit angry but not at the agent. Hughes should have let him know and he would have been more prepared to help his friend. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I guess Hughes had his reasons but I wish I could have been told ahead of time. I'd have like to have felt I wasn't alone in this. I guess better late than never." His voice sounded bitter but he couldn't do anything now other than wait for the ransom to show and then wait a while longer before he ran down again and handed the item to Hagen and hopefully freed Peter. Jones patted him gently on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry, but it was Hughes' call. And you'll need this." Jones pulled a small hearing aid looking thing out of his pocket and handed it to Neal. The con looked at it and pushed it into his ear. He winced at some sudden feedback then nodded as he could hear Jones and the rest of the crew in the device.

"Two-way, I'm guessing?" Jones nodded at his query. Neal pulled a bit of his hair over the ear to hide it then sat back again, face still looking rather bitter and worried. He looked at the stairs not too far from him. Those steps were the stairs to whatever Hell Peter was experiencing. He wanted to run down and trade places with the agent and send him back home. He wondered if El knew what was going on but by the sounds of it, Hughes was doing this operation on a need to know basis.

**()()()**

About an hour or so had passed and Neal still had enough time to get down and look like he had spent his time stealing the bond for Hagen. It had arrived in a courier's tube. Neal had felt the need to open up the item to examine it but Hughes had insisted they leave it as is till the time came to give it to Hagen. Against his better judgment, Neal listened to the older agent. He didn't open the tube but he fiddled with it's lid nervously, Jones watching him with a worried glance.

He had 45 more minutes so Neal stood and walked around the corner. Everyone was ready, last minute sound checks had occurred and they knew he was in communications with them. Neal slung the tube over his shoulder by the strap and started down the steps, the clock ticking away in his mind.

**()()()**

Peter woke up groggy, someone slapping his face. It was Hagen. The agent still couldn't see well, vision blurring in and out of focus again. His head not only ached now from the crack at the base of his skull but from the after effects of the chloroform. Peter was still gagged, tape pulled tightly over his lips and he was sitting at the foot of a bench, arms up and behind him, cuffed to the armrest. He slumped back against the seat, eyes closing but Hagen slapped him again, keeping him semi-alert.

"Caffrey should be back soon. I want you to be awake if you know what's good for you." Peter glanced up at the man, nodding slightly, the motion making him dizzy if not nauseated again. He swallowed back the feeling and tried to keep himself upright. After a while, he heard footsteps echoing off the tunnel walls again and a figure came into view in the distance. He could just make out the shape of someone familiar.

"Ah, you've returned and with time to spare. Your friend and I appreciate your _punctuality_." Hagen sounded more smug than usual, waving the gun around dangerously. Neal stopped about half way and looked down at Peter on the floor and then back up at his captor.

"I have what you asked for. Free him and I'll hand it to you." Neal pointed at Peter, tube hanging from his hand. He heard Hagen laugh, the man crouching down to point the gun at the agent's head.

"You aren't the one giving the orders. I am! Now, we're going to do things like this..." Hagen's voice trailed off as he held out his free hand.

"Walk over slowly, hand me the tube and then walk away." Maybe it was the European accent but Neal stiffened at being told what to do, still he had to be obedient for Peter's sake. He heard the gun cocked when he didn't move right away, the mouth of the pistol still pointed at the back of Peter's skull. Neal made his way slowly forward till Peter was at his feet and Hagen had grabbed hold of the tube where he sat.

Once the tube was out of his hands, Neal started to back away slowly as instructed. Hagen looked up at him, that smug grin on his face, gun still pushed against the back of Peter's skull. Neal continued to step away when he saw the gun move up in a flash, and he heard a report echo loudly throughout the tunnel.

Neal looked at Peter worriedly but his friend was fine. There was no blood and the agent looked wide-eyed at the young man, tears rolling down his cheeks. Neal was confused for a moment before he saw the gun pointed directly at himself. Neal glanced down at his chest and saw a red stain growing larger as he stumbled back away from them. He felt nothing, his mind blank as his legs collapsed beneath him and he tripped, landing on his butt. His hand touched the stain, only the slightest burning sensation coming through as realization hit. He slumped back against the cool cement of the subway terminal floor and found himself staring up at the ceiling. Maybe it was appropriate or maybe not but some semi-cognizant tagger had written the following phrase upon one of the arches overhead:

_*****__Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate._

Neal found himself smiling for some odd reason at that phrase before his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

**(***_**all hope abandon, ye who enter here**_**)**


	3. Chapter 3

**(Chapter 3)**

Peter felt the gun on the back of his head, looking up as Neal walked up and reluctantly handed the courier tube to Hagen, before backing away. He could tell the young man was nervous, watching his body language as he tried not to betray it. Neal had barely taken a handful of steps back when Peter felt the gun brush his scalp upwards. He closed his eyes, expecting to feel a gunshot when he heard the report. The heat was evident but it hadn't hit him. He could smell the acrid odor of gunpowder but there was no sensation of being shot. Peter opened his eyes looking up at Hagen then back at Neal. A red stain began to grow on the young man's chest through his coat. Neal stumbled backwards, falling to a sitting position as he looked down at the wound in shock. Peter felt tears pouring down his cheeks, pulling at his handcuffs weakly as he watched Neal collapsed to the floor. The young man seemed to be looking at something on the ceiling, an odd smile on his face before his expression went slack. Peter pulled at his bonds, muffled sounds of anguish escaping his gag.

Hagen walked over and dropped the tube beside Neal's lifeless body, crouching and whispering:

"_I told you I'd kill you._" The man rose, perking up as the shouts of several Federal agents were heard entering the terminal. Hagen turned and smiled at the agent, dropping his gun and holding up his hands. Peter continued to pull at his bonds, his eyes never leaving Neal's still form. Tears continued to fall from his eyes as he sat there helpless, the shouts of agents around him but all he saw was Neal, dead.

He suddenly realized someone was in front of him, crouching there. It was Jones.

"Peter? Peter?" Jones' voice echoed into the gray mist that covered Peter's vision as he passed out.

**()()()**

"Peter... Peter wake up!" A familiar voice spoke to him as someone was shaking him gently but persistently. Peter opened his eyes reluctantly, blinking up at the figure over him. It was Neal. He blinked up at the young man then at his surroundings. He was at home? Peter felt confused, reaching up to touch the young man's arm. He was real, solid... alive. He saw a worried look on Neal's face as he turned to speak to someone else.

"El, he's awake. Is the doctor coming?" Neal sounded concerned. Peter turned seeing his wife come into view and hug him briefly. He nestled in her arms as much as he could, feeling an intense warmth. The room felt like an oven. El looked worriedly at him, smiling as she put something cool and damp on his forehead. It felt nice as he started to close his eyes again. Someone shook him gently again, Neal speaking. It sounded important but he just wanted to sleep, everything disappearing into a gray blur as he passed out.

**()()()**

El was the first face he saw when he woke up. He was at home, apparently on the couch. He looked around blearily. Peter thought something was missing, sitting up with a start as he tried to think what it was. His wife sat beside him and hugged him tightly. She seemed to understand what was going on.

"I keep thinking I've forgotten something. El? What was it..." He saw sadness in her eyes as he tried to think what was missing. She hugged him even tighter.

"Peter, you need to sleep. I'll get one of the pills the doctor gave you. Go upstairs." He nodded obediently until he saw her pick something up, a folder and tried hiding it behind her as she walked away. Peter stood and grasped the folder, seeing a name clearly printed across the top tab: _Curtis Hagen_. That name rang a bell but he couldn't quite figure out from where. El looked a bit guilty, her face flushed as she tried to speak.

"Peter, you have to give this up. You need rest." She looked like she wanted to cry but she didn't, face pale. Peter wasn't sure what she was talking about or why she looked so sad. He opened up the folder and started to read:

_**Name:**__ Curtis Hagen  
__**Aliases:**__ "The Dutchman"  
__**Date of Birth:**__ October 12th, 1972  
__**Age:**__ 38  
__**National Origin:**__ England_

_**Crimes**__: Bond Forgery, Art Forgery, Theft, Homicide..._

Peter reread the last word, _Homicide_ reading further into the case file. Now he remembered, this was the man Neal had helped him nab on his first few weeks out of prison. Hagen had successfully exchanged a copy of his own forged version of the "_Spanish Victory Bond_" for the original in an attempt to defraud the government out of millions of dollars when he would hopefully exchange false bonds. Neal had discovered the fake bond at the archives. It was with the con's help Peter and the bureau had put Hagen and his operation to rest.

The agent smiled, thinking of the good Neal had done. He sat back down on the sofa and continued to read through the file. El continued to stand there looking worriedly at him. After a moment she left him alone but he hadn't noticed as he flipped through the file to see what else was in there.

"_Curtis Hagen was convicted of homicide in the intentional shooting of an employee of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. Consultant Neal Caffrey, partner of Federal Agent Peter Burke, was shot and killed during a hostage negotiation..._"

Peter felt his throat tighten up as a sudden rush of memories overwhelmed him. He dropped the folder to the floor, stood and ran up the stairs to the bathroom. He didn't even close the door, lifting the lid of the toilet and throwing up. He knelt on the floor; waves of nausea keeping him hunched over the toilet till he finally collapsed to the floor and curled up. He felt someone near him after a while and a hand touch him gently.

"Peter? Peter are you ok?" His wife looked down at him worriedly, feeling at his head and pulling her arms around Peter. El grabbed a towel and wiped at his mouth.

"Neal... s... dead? El? How..." He was in shock, trying to remember. Why couldn't he...

Peter curled up in his wife's arms and buried his face in her shoulder, crying. Neal was gone. How could he have forgotten? He kept crying, memories slowly beginning to come back to him. There had been a small service. June had been there, her face one of the saddest he had ever seen. She looked as if she had lost a family member and yet she had graciously offered her condolences to them and anything else they might need. Elizabeth had taken solace in speaking with the older woman who had been Neal's landlady and friend for so long. Mozzie had refused to show to the service but had sent the obligatory flowers and card. He had taken up the notion that no amount of paperwork could convince him that the body in the coffin wasn't a body-double left by Neal in an attempt to start a new life elsewhere. June said she would sometimes see the little guy staring from across the street up at her home but he never visited her or entered her home again. It had been a sad time for everyone.

He cried, feeling his wife slowly help him to his feet. He heard water running as she started a hot bath for him, helping him undress. Peter just sat in the water as his wife tried to calm him, wiping at his face and trying to help him relax. He shivered despite the warmth of the water. It didn't help him feel any better nor did he even notice as his wife helped him rinse off, pull on a robe and led him back to their bedroom. She dressed him in some gray sweats and his favorite tee, easing him into bed and under the covers.

Peter felt empty. Now he realized what he was missing. He finally turned to look at his wife, realizing he was in bed but not remembering how he got there. She handed him a small pill and some water. Peter just stared at it.

"What's this?" His voice was expressionless, despondent. El smiled softly at him, helping him sit up to take it.

"It will help you sleep, honey. Please." Her eyes and voice pleaded with him. Peter could never deny his wife anything so he obeyed, putting the pill on his tongue and sipping the water. It was bitter tasting but he just took more sips of water to get rid of the taste. He looked up at her as he lay there in bed. Everything seemed so gray suddenly.

"How long has it been? Since Neal..." The pill must have started to work; he was feeling sleepy, blinking his eyes to keep his wife and thoughts in focus. She brushed at his hair gently.

"Six months. The doctor said you might have some memory loss with these pills but you haven't slept otherwise. I'm sorry... I miss him too." Peter nodded, his eyes felt warm as did the room but it was a strangely comforting warmth. His body relaxed and he began to fall asleep, the soft touch of his wife's hand caressing his face lulling him to sleep.

**()()()**

Peter woke up in his bed, head throbbing, pulse beating in his ears. The room felt hot so he tried to move the blankets off of him. It took all his strength to move them aside. He was drenched in sweat but he still felt way too warm for comfort. The ceiling fan switch was just a few feet away on the wall. He just needed to turn it on and he would feel better. Peter sat up, though it took way too much effort, pushing himself to his feet. The room swam around him as he stumbled towards the switch by the door. He nearly reached it when he collapsed to the floor. The floor boards felt cool against his cheek as he lay there. He still felt warm; hot actually, sweat dripping down his brow. Peter thought he heard footsteps hurrying towards him but he was too far gone to be sure.

"Peter? Neal!" It was El speaking. She sounded frantic. He wondered why she was calling to Neal, his mind fuzzy. He felt the floor vibrate with more footsteps and someone flipped him over gently. He saw a blurry figure over him.

"He's still burning up! Call the doctor; I'll put him back in bed." He heard Neal's voice but he must be dreaming. He reached up and touched the young man's face. He felt real enough.

"I'm sorry, Neal..." Peter saw the young man blink back at him as he was eased up to a standing position and carried towards the bed. Neal lifted him up onto the bed and threw the covers back over him. Peter struggled.

"Too warm..." Peter rasped. He saw Neal nod, pulling only a flannel sheet over him. This must be a dream. Neal was dead, wasn't he? He clung to the young man's hand.

"Neal... Mozzie meant to go but... it was just too hard for him to deal." His voice felt dry and throat scratchy. Neal brushed a damp strand of hair from Peter's face looking at his friend curiously.

"Hard to deal with what, Peter? I don't understand." Neal sounded confused but mostly worried. Peter frowned.

"Hagen..." Peter's voice trailed off as he fell back into the gray haze and then darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**(Chapter 4)**

Peter was back at the FBI building. He stood outside the glass partition and door that led into the lobby area and the ground level cubicles. He saw Jones at his desk to his left and an empty one off to his right. He turned and glanced at the door marked "stairs" but he took a deep breath and pushed the glass door open, walking inside. He walked slowly, counting each step as he made his way across the seemingly long, open lobby to the landing where his office sat. He saw Jones turn and blink then smile at him with a slight nod of his head. Peter nodded back, hoping he smiled but unsure, keeping up his stride for fear he wouldn't be able to pass the empty desk. He made it, trying not to run up the stairs to his office, or barricade the door once he got inside. He fought the urge to close the shades, instead turning his back to the window along the landing and looking out the opposite at the view of the city.

The city looked gray, dead almost. He gave a little sigh, staring out at the blankness of the city. Something was missing now. Some tiny spark that he had never noticed till... A knocking on the door woke him from his thoughts. Peter turned and saw Hughes standing there. He stood up and nodded to his boss, the older agent making a gesture for him to be at ease.

"Good to see you back, Burke. How's El?" Hughes' tone was neutral, masking his concern. Peter smiled as best he could and made a motion for his boss to sit down. The older agent closed the door and sat across from him, his eyes examining him but trying not to be obvious about it.

"She's doing well. Been busy with catering orders and parties. June's helped her find some work with her committees and clubs. They're like two peas in a pod." Peter felt his smile warm a bit at the thought of the two women. Hughes noticed.

"Good... Good. Tell them both _Hi_ for me. Thank June for the coffee." He gave a little wink at Peter as he said that. Peter nodded, standing when his boss left. He didn't sit down right away, his thoughts going to coffee. Italian roast to be exact. He felt a twinge of sadness and sat down to calm his worries. He was back at work. He was in his element but he was missing his partner. The coffee had just reminded him of Neal. He sighed, his attention back to the view of the city.

When he had originally released the young con to help him, he never anticipated more than a typical working relationship to develop. Neal had managed in a few short months to tangle himself up into both his wife's and his lives to where they couldn't think of not including him in it. Peter found things he never thought about before becoming second nature. He had never been much of a romantic but Neal had showed him a side of life he wouldn't have normally thought about. When the young man died, he felt a part of him had gone with him. El had seemed to lose a bit of her own spark. They had come to call him family, a wayward sheep who finally found a flock to accept him. Peter sniffed and wiped at his eyes.

"Peter?" Jones' voice interrupted his thoughts as he turned and smiled.

"Hey Clinton. What's up?" He fanned himself a bit feeling a little warm suddenly. Jones just shrugged at him.

"Meeting. Hughes wants us to look over this new case file. Coming?" Jones didn't look like he was warm but Peter knew there must be something wrong with the AC if it was this warm in here. He continued to fan himself with a nearby file folder. Jones gave him a glance.

"Bring that file with you." Jones pointed at the one Peter was using as a fan. He looked down at it and saw the name written across the file tab: _Neal Caffrey_. He blinked, looking up at Jones with a curious glance as he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. It really was feeling hot in here now. Why didn't Jones seem to feel it?

"Neal's case file? Why are we..." His voice caught in his throat, the room spinning around him slightly. He felt dizzy, leaning back in his chair to catch his breath. Jones replied as if he had finished his sentence.

"Don't you remember? We're investigating him for Bond Forgery." Jones turned as Hughes passed by, the older agent asking him something. Peter tried to listen in but all he could hear were faint murmurs of things, their lips moving but no sound reaching him. How could they be investigating Neal if he were dead? Something was wrong here, the world seemingly spinning faster around him although he couldn't see it actually moving. Peter felt ill, nausea washing over him. He jumped up out of his seat, stumbling past Jones and Hughes. He ran to the stairs, down and towards the back where the break area and bathrooms were. He found an empty stall and started to vomit. He sensed someone behind him, a gentle hand helping him stay up as he continued to be sick.

"It's ok, Peter. You're going to be ok." He turned towards the voice once he felt better and saw a familiar face crouched beside him.

"Neal? How..." He saw the young man smiling at him, handing him a towel to wipe at his mouth. Peter took the towel and proffered hand as Neal helped him stand up. Peter made his way to a sink and rinsed his hands, face and mouth. Neal continued to be there although he couldn't fathom how.

"I don't understand this... I went to your funeral!" Maybe Mozzie had been right? His mind felt confused and the room still felt unusually warm to him. Neal smiled pointing at the wall.

"Do you remember what today is?" The young man's voice sounded nostalgic. Peter turned to see where he pointed and found a calendar with a red circle on it. Who put that in here? He walked over and glanced at the date, words written inside the box.

_Anniversary of Neal Caffrey's release from prison._

Peter blinked at the words, turning to ask a question when he found himself laying in bed.

**()()()**

He stared up at the ceiling, his ceiling at home, a thin flannel blanket tucked around him. He felt cold suddenly, pulling the comforter around him and curling up. Had he just been dreaming about something? Peter tried to remember but his attention was diverted by a sudden need for water. He felt terribly thirsty, his lips somewhat dry and cracked when he licked at them. He sat up weakly, leaning on his elbow and looking around the room. It was his bedroom. The same room he and his lovely wife Elizabeth shared but she was no where to be seen. He still felt thirsty, opening his mouth but feeling a tightness in his throat. It felt sore and raw, his nose a bit runny. Peter wiped at his nose with his shirt sleeve noticing he was in his favorite tee and sweats. The afternoon sun shone through the curtained windows making him wonder what he was doing in bed at this time of day.

Peter sat up on the edge of the bed, the covers still pulled around him. He pulled the flannel blanket, toga style around his shoulders for warmth and stood shakily. Everything felt warm around his face but his body was cold. He made his way to the door, the room swaying along the way but he made it, opened it up walking out into the hallway. The floorboards felt cool beneath his bare feet but he just toddled along, blanket dragged along as he entered the bathroom. He turned on the faucet, throwing cool water on his face and drinking some before he left, walking towards the stairs. It seemed such a long way down but he needed to find El. He hiked the blanket up around him so he wouldn't trip and took his time getting to the bottom. Before he reached the last stair, Peter noticed a figure curled up on their sofa. The figure of a young man with dark wavy hair in a white tee and black jeans lay there. He stared at them a moment when he reached the living room.

The figure looked almost boyish although he had to be anywhere between 25 and 30. His hair hung over his face in semi-curls, mostly wavy ringlets. Peter felt a smile form on his lips as he turned to make his way towards the kitchen area. Maybe El was there.

"Peter?" He heard a sleepy voice calling out to him. Peter turned to see Neal stretching and yawning, his face somewhat apologetic.

"You shouldn't be out of bed yet. El will kill me." Neal stood and walked over to Peter and led him over to the sofa, sitting him down. He continued to yawn and stretch, a few dark bags under his eyes that looked like he hadn't slept much lately. Peter nodded at the young man unsure of what was going on.

"I was... thirsty." Peter coughed out, his voice just above a whisper. His throat felt rather sore still like someone had filed it with an emery board. Neal nodded making a motion for him to stay there as he disappeared into the kitchen. He came back almost immediately with a bottle of something thick and red, a spoon and a large glass of water.

"Take some of this. The doctor recommended it." Neal opened up the bottle, pouring some into the spoon. Peter nodded, allowing Neal to feed the syrupy cough medicine to him after which the agent took a long drink of water. Neal smiled at him.

"I guess if you made it down here, you must be feeling better. El was so worried about you, she called me to see what was wrong. You had a really high fever there but it seems to have gone down quite a bit." Neal put a hand to the agent's head and looked relieved. Peter continued to drink the water till it was gone. Neal got up and disappeared into the kitchen again coming back with a full glass. Peter smiled.

"I had a... fever? I don't remember. Everything feels strange." Peter leaned back against the sofa, pulling the blanket tighter around him. He felt cold despite the warmth on his face. Neal helped Peter lay down on the sofa, pushing a cushion under his head.

"You've been in bed three days. I was going to go look in on you but I guess I fell asleep." He rubbed the back of his neck with a chagrined look.

"El went out to visit June briefly. June was worried about you being so sick she made some chicken soup for you. Seems you caught that bug that was going around. Doctor had you on some antibiotics. I guess it helped." Neal took the glass from Peter who sat up a little bit.

"I'm just glad you were here. El always worries about me when I get sick." He held out his hand and grasped Neal's in his, squeezing it. Neal smiled back putting his other hand on Peter's.

"Not a problem. El just sounded so frantic when you wouldn't wake up. Doctor said we did the right thing calling as soon as we did. This bug has hit some people pretty hard. I'm glad you're awake." Neal's voice cracked ever so slightly when he spoke. He seemed to be holding back some emotion.

"Me too. I was having some pretty bad nightmares there for a while. I always have weird dreams when I get fevers." Peter tried not to think about what he had been dreaming about, replacing that fear with a grin.

"I just realized what today is." Peter spoked happily as he sat up a little straighter, blanket tightly wound around him for warmth. Neal blinked with a curious look.

"Today? I can't think of what today is..." Neal scratched at his chin as if wondering what he could have forgotten. Peter laughed although it hurt a bit with his throat so sore he started to cough some. He grabbed the glass and took another drink.

"It's the day you became my partner." Peter smiled watching the realization come to the young man's face. Neal blushed a bit, running a hand through his hair.

"You remember? I try not to think about it mostly cause it reminds me of how I could have spent another four years in prison." He smirked at his friend.

"Well for me it's a significant day. A day that changed my life you might say." He saw Neal blush at the comment, the con looking out of his element.

"Stop it, Peter. You're trying to embarrass me? Next thing you know, you'll be celebrating the day you caught me the first time." Neal narrowed his eyes at the agent who just whistled hoarsely.

"Geesh, don't tell me you already do? Does El know how sick you are and I don't mean that in the health sense." Neal crossed his arms over his chest in mock annoyance, Peter trying not to laugh but doing so despite his throat.

"She's worse than me at anniversaries. So... where can I get some food. I'm starving!" Peter tried to stand but Neal pushed him back against the sofa with a gentle nudge.

"You're staying there. It's bad enough you came downstairs. El is going to strangle me for that." Neal would have said more but there was the sound of a key in the door and it opened up revealing Elizabeth. She turned and stared at the two men, Peter sitting wrapped up in the blanket while Neal sat across from him on the coffee table. She had a small bag hanging from her arm along with her purse.

"Hey El!" They said it almost simultaneously, blushing a bit although in Peter's case it could have been from what was left of his fever. She continued to look at them, eyes narrowing at the scene. Neal broke down under that stare and confessed.

"I'm sorry. I fell asleep and when I woke up, he was downstairs." Neal shrugged helplessly, his charms not working on the woman as she turned her attention to Peter, eyes narrowing a bit more.

"Honey, I missed you when I woke up and came to see where you went." Peter put on the best puppy dog eyes he knew how and she softened her expression, walking over and hugging him as Neal moved out of the way.

"Aww, honey. You're still a bit warm but you look so much better." She turned to Neal, eyes narrowing again like a mother to a child. He gulped a bit.

"Peter was thirsty. I gave him water and some of that syrup the doctor recommended." He pointed to the coffee table and Peter concurred trying to help his friend out. She finally smiled at them both hugging Neal as she stood.

"June sent over some chicken soup. I'm just going to warm it up for you. Stay there, and you..." She pinned Neal in place with her stare.

"Don't let him move from there." Her stare got Peter too who nodded as well, both of them feeling like two little kids getting caught doing something bad. El smiled sweetly after that as she disappeared into the kitchen. They heard the microwave running after a moment. Neal sat down beside Peter on the sofa.

"She's like a tiger protecting her cubs. I have to remember not to get sick around her." Neal smirked at Peter who just nodded sleepily.

"I remember trying to get out of bed once when I had sprained my ankle fairly badly. Never again. It was all I could do to get around on my own." Peter made a face making Neal chuckle.

"Hey speaking of bed. You said some odd things when you were ill. Something about Mozzie not making it to some thing and you mentioned Curtis Hagen. Guess the anniversary brought that to mind? I didn't understand the half of it." Neal looked curiously at his friend but Peter just shrugged.

"I don't recall. Probably some fever induced hallucination." He looked up with relief as El came back into the room with a tray. Neal helped her with it, moving aside as she insisted on feeding her husband. Peter gave a suffering look to Neal but allowed his wife to baby him. Neal tried not to laugh although he seemed to enjoy the scene, almost looking envious of them.

**()()()**

Three days later the doctor pronounced Peter well enough to go to work. He had healed pretty well with only some minor symptoms like sore throat and cough remaining. The syrup seemed to work for that much to Peter's regret. The stuff was nasty but he had to take it or risk his wife's wrath.

Neal waited outside June's, a silver thermos in hand as Peter drove up the following week. The young man trotted over to the vehicle and slipped inside, placing the thermos in the cup holder of the Taurus. He smiled broadly.

"You look like you're feeling better." Neal smiled at his partner and friend, a relieved look on his face. Peter nodded back.

"Yep. Feeling like a million bucks. It's an illness like that that makes you realize how good your life really is. So... shall we celebrate that anniversary today with some Chinese? It's on me. Consider it a kind of birthday present." Peter turned briefly, patting his friend on the shoulder. Neal blinked at the agent.

"So you were serious about that? I thought it was the fever talking but I won't say no to a free meal, especially one that involves those dumplings." Neal licked his lips, his eyes brightening.

"Hey, if we saved it for dinner, we could take El and June and have some wine!" Neal seemed really excited about the anniversary where he had only seemed amused by Peter's memory before. It just made him think how much the young man acted like a grown up _Peter Pan_.

Peter thought about the nightmare he had during his illness and swept it under the proverbial rug. There were times he had thought the young man would leave him but now, they were like family. They'd been through too much to just separate. If Peter were a shark, Neal was the remora sticking close to him and the agent didn't mind at all. Even if neither one admitted it to the other, they needed one another like PB needs J.

**THE END**


End file.
